


Wake Me Up When It's All Over

by anodyneer



Series: Sharpie Hearts [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dating, Developing Relationship, Flashbacks, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleeping Together, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anodyneer/pseuds/anodyneer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a beautiful Saturday out for Peter and Neal takes a dark turn, Peter gets a startling glimpse into Neal's past, while Neal starts to find his future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Me Up When It's All Over

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first sequel to [Fill the Places I Can't Reach](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1582892), an AU fic in which Peter is a former NYPD detective and the owner of a private security firm, and Neal is a Starbucks barista. Takes place immediately after the previous fic, and it's helpful to have read that one first. Title is from "Wake Me Up" by Aloe Blacc.
> 
> The very talented [Kanarek13](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanarek13/pseuds/Kanarek13) has created amazing cover art for each fic in this series - thank you so much! <3

  


* * *

Neal woke from a sound sleep to three realizations – he felt fairly well-rested for the first time in many months, there was a very warm body wrapped around his own, and he _really_ needed to use the bathroom.

He shifted and tried to work his way out of the arms that were forming a protective cocoon around him, but they tightened, and he looked up to find Peter squinting at him with one barely-open eye.

“Hey,” Neal whispered, voice raspy with sleep. “Let me up.”

Peter grunted and lifted his head only far enough to gauge the natural light in the room. “Too early.”

Neal groaned and worked a hand between them to push at Peter’s chest. He fought off a brief twinge of panic and reminded himself that Peter was his present, not his past. He had faith that the other man would let him go, eventually. “Peter, come on. I need to get up.” When Peter simply gave a shake of his head and let his eye drift shut, Neal pulled out all the stops. “Do you seriously want me to pee on you? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t let me go.” That worked; Peter’s arms loosened immediately, and this time, both of his eyes opened.

“Come back,” he mumbled around a yawn.

Though Neal had already gotten more sleep than he had in ages, the cozy bed and the man in it were impossible to resist. He gave Peter a quick kiss on the tip of his nose as he pushed himself up. “I promise.”

When he returned from the bathroom and slipped back under the sheet, Peter regarded him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Sleepin’ okay?”

“I am. Better than I have in a long time.” Neal curled up against Peter again, letting the older man’s strong arms engulf him. “You?”

The corners of Peter’s mouth twitched up in a drowsy smile. “Mmm, yeah.” He gave Neal a quick peck on the lips. “Go back to sleep.”

“I hope so.” Neal settled into the warmth and safety of the other man’s body and tried not to dwell on the fact that he’d slept so long without having a nightmare. He knew if he let himself overthink it, he’d never be able to get back to sleep.

Instead, he concentrated on Peter, this sweet and gorgeous man who’d offered to spend the night with him not for anything sexual, but simply to help him feel safe and get some rest. He hoped that there would soon be more to it, and he knew Peter felt the same way, but for the time being, this was enough.

It also helped him respect and trust Peter even more, knowing that he hadn’t tried to take advantage of Neal at a time when he’d been so vulnerable. He couldn’t even remember a time in his past when his first night in bed with someone to whom he was attracted hadn’t involved sex. It was a novel feeling, and one that comforted him enough to let him relax and slip back into sleep.

The next time he woke, Neal’s head was resting on his pillow instead of Peter’s chest, and he felt the slight roughness of denim against his palm. He stirred and turned just far enough to look up into the smiling face of Peter Burke, who was sitting up against the headboard. 

“Hey, good morning.” Peter put aside the newspaper and pen he’d been holding and leaned down to give Neal a kiss. “You ready to get up yet, or do you feel like you need some more sleep?”

“Morning.” Neal rubbed at his eyes and stretched, then pushed himself up to sit beside Peter, taking stock of how he felt. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually think I got enough sleep.” His chest tightened briefly at the thought, and he leaned into Peter’s side. “Thank you,” he whispered next to the older man’s ear, breathing in the scent of shampoo and a hint of cologne, mixed with a warm, clean scent that was distinctly Peter’s own. It was only then that it fully registered with him that Peter had already taken a shower and was dressed in a navy blue polo shirt and jeans, presumably the contents of his overnight bag.

Peter’s smile widened. “Anytime. I’m just glad you slept so well.” He squeezed Neal’s thigh, then let his hand rest there. “When you feel up to a shower, go ahead back. I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re done.”

Neal leaned back and gave Peter a chagrined look. “I, uh, don’t know if I have much in the fridge.” His appetite had improved drastically since he’d started spending so much time with Peter, but Neal’s lack of sleep and nightmares often left his stomach unsettled in the morning, and he usually got something light from downstairs on the rare occasion that he was hungry for breakfast.

“Mozzie was here earlier. I asked him to bring up a few things.”

“Wait, Moz? Was _here_?” Neal gaped at him, running a hand down over his stubble-covered cheek.

Peter chuckled and nodded. “He showed up just as I was finishing my workout. Had some sort of antique dagger with him, but when he saw that you were wearing pajama pants and that it didn’t look like we’d used the bed for anything but sleeping, I guess he decided not to use it on me. I asked if there was anything downstairs that I could make for breakfast, and he came back with some things he said you’d like.”

It was somehow as much a comfort as a shock to Neal that he’d not only slept through Peter getting up and taking a shower, but also through Peter’s workout – whatever it may have been – and Mozzie’s visit.

“Moz. Brought food. To _you_?” 

“He did,” Peter replied, still chuckling. “I think he was a little freaked out when I answered the door, but when I told him you’d been sleeping all night, he agreed to bring up whatever I needed.”

“Wow.” Neal scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to remember how to speak in complete sentences. Mozzie wasn’t a butler in the true sense of the word – he was much more of an assistant – and he usually didn’t serve anyone but June unless it was for an event like the one they’d hosted the previous night. The fact that the distrustful man hadn’t forced Peter out of the room at dagger-point spoke volumes.

Peter nuzzled at his ear. “Come on, sleepyhead. Go shower, and then we’ll eat and get out of here, see what we can get up to in this fine city.” He mouthed at Neal’s earlobe, and Neal only barely managed to stifle a moan. “Go, now – before I decide I’m too hungry and have you for breakfast instead.”

This time, Neal couldn’t hold back the moan, and he surged up to kiss Peter. He kept his mouth closed, vaguely worried about morning breath, but Peter seemed to have other ideas. Though he kept the kiss light, his tongue pushed gently at Neal’s lips until Neal finally relented. Self-consciousness got the better of him, though, and he pulled away.

“Stop,” he whispered. “I’m disgusting.”

Something flashed across Peter’s face so quickly that Neal didn’t catch it, but then the older man’s lips curled into a small smile. “That’s impossible.” He gave Neal a gentle shove. “Now go. Let me cook for you this time.”

Neal watched him for a moment before reluctantly sliding off the bed and padding back to the bathroom. He went through his morning routine quickly, though he did allow himself a few extra minutes in the shower to just stand under the water and revel in the wonderful feeling of being rested – and cherished. 

When Neal returned, Peter was putting what looked like egg white omelets onto two plates, which he then placed on the table. There was also, to Neal’s amazement, a small bowl of fresh fruit and a glass of orange juice by each place setting.

“Breakfast is served,” Peter said, giving Neal a kiss before pulling out the chair for him.

Neal just sat and stared as the other man took the seat across the table from him. He was stunned not only by the fact that Peter had done all of this while he was in the bathroom, but by the realization that he actually had an appetite. As if to drive the point home, his stomach rumbled, and he rubbed absently at it.

“Peter, this is…” He shook his head and waved a hand at the table.

“Mozzie supplied the fruit and juice – oh, and the veggies for the omelets,” Peter confessed with a sheepish shrug.

“But you did the hard part,” Neal added, finally able to grin at him. “And it’s perfect. I can’t remember the last time I was actually this hungry in the morning.” He reached across the table and squeezed Peter’s hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You may want to try it before you thank me, though.” Peter gave him a wink before adding some pepper to his omelet.

Neal tried some of the omelet, which he discovered also contained tomatoes and spinach, and groaned his approval. “Now can I thank you? This is so good.” Peter seemed to be suddenly fascinated by his own plate, a flush creeping up his neck.

As they worked their way through the meal, Neal snuck several glances at Peter, secretly enjoying the fact that there was a gorgeous man sitting across the table from him. And though he’d been too distracted by the whole experience to notice it during their dinner together, Peter thankfully seemed to have good manners, especially for someone who practically plowed through his food. He chewed with his mouth closed, didn't make any of the smacking noises that normally turned Neal's stomach, and actually used the napkin instead of his hand or sleeve.

“What?”

Peter's question pulled Neal out of his thoughts, and he smiled, shaking his head. “Just admiring the view.”

“Yeah, right. I eat like a horse.”

Neal chuckled around a bite of eggs. “Definitely not.” When Peter raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, Neal smirked. “Well, if you really think so, then a well-refined horse.”

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Mr. Ed goes to breakfast.” He shrugged as he started on his fruit. “Got my appetite from Dad and my table manners from my mother, or so I’ve been told.”

“I figured as much.” Neal's own childhood had been less than ideal, and knowing that Peter would likely ask him about his own past if he asked about Peter's, he quickly changed the subject. “So what do you want to do today?”

“That's your call, remember?” Peter nudged his foot under the table. “You were supposed to surprise me.”

“I remember, and I have a few ideas. Should I tell you, or do you still want to be surprised?”

“I’ll stick with the surprise.” Peter finished the last of his fruit, then nursed his orange juice as he waited for Neal.

As they cleaned up and got ready to go out, Neal couldn’t help thinking about how good he felt. He was well-rested, well-fed, and unusually relaxed. And all of it was because of Peter Burke.

Just as they were about to leave, Neal stopped Peter at the door with a hand on his wrist.

“Peter, I – I need to thank you.” When Peter cocked his head, Neal gave him a tentative smile. “For last night, and for breakfast, and just, you know, giving me a chance.” Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Neal cut him off with a deep, fervent kiss. Peter surrendered immediately, his hands moving to Neal’s hips, tongue tangling with Neal’s, and it was perfect. Instead of being self-conscious or worried, all Neal felt was true happiness – and more than a little lust. He relaxed into Peter, one hand on the other man’s chest, fingers of the other hand scratching lightly at the short hairs at the nape of Peter’s neck.

When they finally parted, if only because they needed to catch their breath, Peter rested his forehead against Neal’s. “Damn. You keep that up and we’ll never get out of here.” His hands slipped around to cup Neal’s ass, and Neal sighed.

“Going out, so overrated.” His own hands slid down over Peter’s chest and stomach, coming to rest just above the button on his jeans. Peter pulled away just far enough to shake his head, and his hands settled over Neal’s.

“How about we go see this surprise first, and then we come back here and see what other surprises we can…uncover.”

Though he wouldn’t have minded skipping the date altogether, Neal really did want to take Peter out. He also needed to prepare himself, mentally and emotionally, for the fact that things might progress to the next level between them. It had been a long time since he’d been intimate with someone, and he was fairly certain that Peter was in the same boat.

For Neal, though, intimacy with Peter meant being with someone he truly loved for what was probably the first time in his life. He’d been in a few relationships, but he hadn’t felt for them what he felt for Peter. And then there was – no. There was no way he was going to let his past ruin a day that was already off to such a promising start. Instead, he shut down that line of thinking and brought himself back to the present, giving Peter a smile.

“Is that a promise?”

Peter answered with a sly-around-the-edges smile that made Neal’s pulse quicken. “That is definitely a promise.”

Neal nodded to the door. “The sooner we go, the sooner we get back.” After a quick kiss, he picked up the garment bag he’d loaned to Peter for his tux, and Peter grabbed his overnight bag and cane. They headed downstairs, both a little surprised that they didn’t run into Mozzie or June, and Neal followed Peter to his vehicle.

“Nice ride,” Neal said, giving the Grand Cherokee a thorough once-over as Peter stowed his things in the back.

“Yeah, I caved and retired the old one a couple of years ago. Post-shooting crisis or something.” He grinned and gestured to the Jeep. “So, walking or driving?”

“It’s close enough to walk if you’re up to it,” Neal said, returning the grin.

“I’m fine today.” Peter nodded and held out a hand, and Neal laced his fingers through the older man’s as they started to walk. They settled into a light conversation about the previous evening’s event, and as they got closer to their destination, Neal could feel the butterflies doing laps in his stomach. By the time he brought Peter to a stop in front of the American Museum of Natural History, Neal was practically vibrating with nervous energy. 

“Well, here we are. What do you think?”

Peter stared up at the entrance to the Rose Center, his mouth working. “Wow,” he finally managed. “Neal, I –”

“I remember you saying how much you loved astronomy and history,” Neal said, trying to sound more casual than hopeful. “I’m sure you’ve probably been here before, but they’ve always got new exhibits, and I’ve heard the new show in the space theater is great…” He trailed off, realizing that he was rambling, and that Peter was looking at him with an odd combination of fondness and uncertainty. It made him a little uncomfortable, and he shifted from one foot to the other.

“Neal, this is wonderful, but I…” Peter glanced up at the entrance again, then looked back to Neal, shaking his head. “It’s too much. I…you – you don’t have to do this.” Now, Peter was the one who looked flustered. As soon as Neal realized the reason for his protest, though, the relief washed over him.

Peter was worried about the cost, which between admission and tickets for special exhibitions or movies, could get pretty steep, especially for someone who was living on a Starbucks salary. There had been a time in his life, years ago, when Neal would have been offended by Peter’s assumption that he couldn’t afford it. Now, though, he simply found it sweet.

“Hey, relax,” he said, deciding it was past time to let Peter off the hook. “I have a membership. We’re covered for anything you want to see. I can even get us a behind-the-scenes tour if we have the time. If not, we’ll catch it next time.”

“What – you – really?” Peter stammered, eyes wide. 

Neal nodded and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Really. June’s a patron here, and when I moved in, she started bringing me along to events. When she saw how much I enjoyed it, she bought me a membership of my own. It’s not on the same level as hers, obviously, but it’s more than enough.”

A smile spread slowly across Peter’s face, and excitement sparked in his eyes. “Well, in that case, what are we waiting for?”

Neal mirrored the smile and started to lead him toward the door, but Peter pulled him back. “What?”

“Thank you,” Peter said, wrapping him in a brief embrace. “It’s perfect.”

“We haven’t even done anything yet,” Neal teased, taking Peter’s hand once again. “But I’m glad you already like it.” 

They made their way inside and quickly found themselves immersed in the experience. They concentrated mostly on earth and space science since those were interests they shared, and though he was as fascinated by the place as he always was, Neal spent just as much time observing Peter. The older man was clearly in his element, sometimes rattling off facts about the things they were seeing, other times rendered speechless. His enthusiasm, almost child-like at times, was contagious, and as at breakfast, there were several times when Neal found himself just staring at Peter.

“What?” Peter caught him looking and gave him a puzzled head tilt.

“You,” Neal said with a smile. “Seeing you like this is incredible.”

Peter glanced away, hints of pink creeping into his cheeks. “Sorry. I’m not getting too embarrassing, am I?”

“Embarrassing? No, not at all. I meant what I said. Seeing _you_ this happy makes _me_ happy.”

Peter looked back up, and the smile he gave Neal was blinding. “And _that_ is what makes _me_ happy.” He took Neal’s hands in his own and squeezed. “Look, I really appreciate this – I mean it. I’ve been here a few times, but never quite like this, and never with someone who shared my interest in all of it.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it so much.” Neal pulled him back so they were mostly concealed by the display next to them, then snuck in a quick kiss. “And I don’t think this is the only interest we share.”

“Mmm. You’re incorrigible.” Peter countered with a kiss of his own. “And irresistible.” Neal couldn’t help himself; he threw back his head and laughed, and that seemed to ratchet Peter’s elation up yet another notch. Peter wrapped his arms around Neal and held him tight for just a moment, conscious of the fact that a tour group was moving toward them, before letting him go.

“Come on,” Neal said softly, taking one of his hands again. “It’s almost time for the space show to start.”

“Think it’ll be dark enough to make out in there?” Peter asked with a mischievous grin as they started making their way toward the space theater.

“Dark enough, definitely. Private enough? Absolutely not, especially on a Saturday.”

Peter gave him a mock resigned shrug. “Ah well, more for later.”

The show was stunning, and they sat in awestruck silence through much of it, though Neal occasionally heard a gasp from Peter. At one point, Peter slipped an arm around Neal’s shoulders, and the younger man leaned into him as much as he could with the arm of the seat between them. They stayed that way until the show ended and waited until most of the other people had gone before making their own way out. 

They’d been in the museum for a few hours and were starting to get hungry, and rather than go with the pricey choices inside, they decided to head across the street to eat somewhere a little more reasonable.

Peter was raving about a particular part of the space show, and Neal was basking in his excitement when it happened. A scream, a squeal of tires, and Neal glanced up just in time to see the impact half a block away. There was a loud pop as one car slammed into the other, pushing it through the intersection, tires chattering on the asphalt.

“Oh, shit.” Peter’s hand tightened around his; Neal barely felt it. “Come on, they need help.” Peter tried to lead him in the direction of the intersection, but Neal couldn't move. His whole body went cold, and his feet felt like they were encased in the concrete on which he stood. He tried to breathe, but the air reeked of gasoline and diesel, and his throat closed in protest. There was a coppery taste in his mouth – blood, but not his own.

“Neal?” A distant voice, drowned out by the steady ringing in his ears. He thought he recognized the voice, but it was out of place and so far away that he knew the person it belonged to would never get there in time to help. He dropped to his knees, hands landing in shattered safety glass, a stinging in his palms that didn’t really matter.

The street wavered before him and became a highway, shimmering in the heat. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, looking up into a pair of half-lidded blue eyes so much like his own.

_You have your father’s eyes_ , he’d heard so many times. _Both of you do_.

Those eyes were staring back at him – _her_ eyes – normally sparkling with joy and innocence and just a hint of something he could never quite place. Now, though, they were dull and lifeless, flecked with red, staring right through him.

_It should have been you, Neal. Not her. Not them._

He wanted to scream, but his lungs were still on lockdown. A hand fell on his shoulder, heavy and warm, and he jumped and whirled to find a man who looked vaguely familiar. He assumed the other man was a paramedic and needed to tell him to help her – help _them_.

Neal’s mouth worked, but he still couldn’t catch his breath, and his stomach suddenly lurched into his throat. He tried to get to his feet and ended up stumbling against what looked like a glass door, a surreal mirage in the middle of the highway. Again, the hand gripped his shoulder, steering him through the door and away from the wreckage, away from her empty blue eyes. He gagged and tried to swallow back the bile, but his stomach rebelled.

“In here.” The voice broke through the hum in his ears, through the cracking of metal and the hiss of compressed air. His legs gave out, and the arms around him – one at his back and the other across his chest – guided him until he was kneeling before a toilet.

He wrapped his fingers around the seat so tightly that he thought his bones might shatter, and he heaved with such force that he could feel the muscles contracting all the way down to his legs. He managed a ragged gasp before his stomach reversed again, and he could taste the blood – not his, _hers_ – and the fuel, the melting plastic and the bubbling asphalt, the smoke and the fire and _save them_.

_Please don’t let them die._

By the time his stomach gave up the fight, Neal’s whole body was tingling and he couldn’t see through the spots dancing in his vision. He heard the toilet flush and started to slump forward, but a hand on his shoulder and an arm around his waist pulled him gently backward. Away from the ghostly remnants of the blood and glass and flames.

“Neal.” The same voice, clearer now, deep and steady but tinged with something that might have been concern. “Breathe, Neal.” He tried to do just that, but his heart felt like it was trying to beat right out of his chest, and the sensation left him breathless. Strong arms cradled him, pulled him against a body that was safe and warm and not broken, not bleeding. “Come on, Neal, please. Breathe for me.” A hand rubbed gently at his chest, and he closed his eyes and sank back against the other man.

_Peter._

The name came to him suddenly, and he gasped, eyes shooting open. This time when he looked up, the eyes looking back at him were brown and shining and filled with worry – and life. His shaking hands clamped around the arms that were holding him, and he clung desperately to them.

“Shh. I’ve got you. Just breathe, Neal.” Peter’s voice was a comforting whisper next to his ear, and Neal curled into Peter’s body as he tried to keep himself from shaking apart. He gasped once, and again, and the panic that had paralyzed his lungs started to give way to the peaceful strength that surrounded him. “That’s it. That’s good.”

Neal felt one of Peter’s hands wrap around his fingers, and the older man brought them briefly to his lips before pressing them against his chest. “Breathe with me. Deep breath in, hold it, then let it out.” Peter’s chest rose and fell rhythmically under Neal’s fingers, but Neal’s body still wasn’t quite there, and he could only wheeze in response. His vision started to dim, and he closed his eyes and leaned his head against Peter’s shoulder. “Come on, Neal. Please.” Peter’s voice sounded oddly thick, but Neal’s brain couldn’t settle on what that meant.

Another voice suddenly cut through the fog. Neal could only make out half of the words, and none of them really made sense. Something about needing help – 

_Please don’t let them die._

– and a question about an ambulance. Peter answered with reassurances – no, they didn’t need an ambulance, just some time and privacy, and maybe some water and paper towels. Though Neal didn’t open his eyes, he could sense when they were alone again. He turned his face into Peter’s neck, and when he felt the other man’s pulse against his forehead – _alive_ – something inside him snapped.

He felt the sob long before he heard it. It started down deep in his stomach, pulling bits and pieces of the pain and horror from all of the dark little hiding places inside his soul as it worked its way up past his stubborn lungs and his hammering heart, up through his raw throat. When it finally burst free, his entire body flinched with the force of it, and he was startled by how inhuman it sounded.

Peter gasped, and one of his hands moved to Neal’s head, stroking gently at his hair. “Hey, no. Shhh. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

It was both a surprise and, somewhere further back in his mind, a relief to Neal that the first sob wasn’t followed by more of the same. He started to take solace from the hand in his hair, the heartbeat against his skin, Peter’s soothing mantra, and he gave himself over to all of it. He trusted Peter, and now that he was finally feeling safe, he allowed himself to let go, crying softly against the older man’s neck.

Peter, to Neal’s great relief, didn’t reject him and didn’t seem unnerved. If anything, he doubled his efforts to comfort Neal, though his voice took on a barely-there hitch of its own. Someone brought them a bottle of water and some wet paper towels, and Peter draped the makeshift compress over the back of Neal’s neck. His hand moved to Neal’s face, thumb gliding over his cheek, brushing away the tears. 

Neal had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but he eventually felt like he was starting to get control again. He knew where he was, knew where he _wasn’t_ , and tried to swallow the humiliation that came with knowing Peter had witnessed what happened to him. Peter was still with him, though, strong but gentle, comforting without being patronizing. And in a moment of startling clarity, Neal understood that he was deeply, fiercely in love with the man.

Someone else entered the room, told them he was an EMT, and asked if they needed help. He said he’d been at the accident scene down the street when someone came and told him that a man might need help in the restaurant bathroom. By then, Neal was thinking clearly enough to understand that he was the person in question, and he sat up while the medic checked his pulse and his breathing, took his blood pressure, asked him if he had a history of panic attacks – to which Neal nodded – and if he thought he needed to go to the hospital. 

“No,” Neal mumbled, fingers worrying the hem of Peter’s shirt. “No hospital. I just want to go home.” He looked over at Peter, trying to work up a somewhat reassuring expression. “Please.”

“Of course.” Peter nodded and gave him just a hint of a smile, then looked to the EMT. “He only lives a few blocks away. I’ll call for a ride.”

The medic nodded and focused on Neal. “Your vitals are pretty stable for someone who just had a panic attack, and you look to be doing well otherwise, so I’m not going to recommend a transport. Just do what you normally do when this happens and take it easy until you’re feeling better.” He gave Neal’s shoulder a brief squeeze, shook Peter’s hand, and left them alone again.

“Hey,” Peter said softly, planting a kiss on his temple. “Do you think your stomach could handle some water?”

“Yeah.” Neal pushed himself the rest of the way up and shifted over until he was sitting against the wall, pulling the compress from the back of his neck. “I’m fine. Well, sort of.”

Peter opened the bottle of water and handed it to him, this time actually managing a small smile. “You’re getting there.” As Neal took a few tentative sips, trying to keep his shaking hands from spilling it down the front of his shirt, Peter ran his fingertips up and down Neal’s arm. “If I call Mozzie, will he come give us a ride back?”

Neal shivered at the thought of actually getting into a car and going anywhere, even if it was only the few blocks back to June’s mansion. He handed the bottle back to Peter and closed his eyes to gather himself. Peter waited patiently, moving to sit beside him, close but not smothering.

“He will,” Neal finally answered, “but, um, do you think we could walk instead? I mean, you know, if your leg’s okay. I just – I think I need to clear my head, get some air.” He slowly brought his eyes up to meet Peter’s, and there was an unusual depth of understanding in the other man’s gaze. 

“Sure, of course.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, and when Neal made a move to get up, Peter stood quickly and held out a hand to help him. Neal thoroughly rinsed his mouth and washed his face and hands, still feeling somewhat shaky, but more than ready to go home.

After Peter took his turn washing up, they left the bathroom – a private family bathroom, Neal noticed, which someone had posted with a “temporarily closed for cleaning” sign so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Peter stopped to try to pay for the water, but the manager refused and said he hoped Neal was feeling better. Peter looked toward the front entrance, then said something only the manager could hear, and they were ushered through the kitchen area and out an employee exit at the back of the restaurant.

Walking hand-in-hand, they cut through the alley for a couple of blocks before Peter finally led them back around to the street, now out of view of the accident scene behind them. Neither of them said anything at first, and Neal was grateful for the time to finish putting himself back together.

He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what was going through Peter’s mind. The man had now seen him at what was just about his worst, and though it couldn’t have been an easy thing to witness, Peter didn’t seem to be in any hurry to distance himself from someone with so many issues. In fact, the few times Neal glanced over, feeling Peter’s eyes on him, he was met with a look of genuine affection.

When they were halfway back to June’s place, Neal finally broke the silence. “Look, Peter, I – I’m sorry you had to see that. And that I ruined our date.” He looked over, only to see Peter shaking his head.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Peter said matter-of-factly. “And you didn’t ruin anything. That was easily one of the best dates I’ve ever been on.” He grinned and gave Neal’s hand a squeeze. “Next time, we should do the gem and mineral halls.”

Neal wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or irritated by Peter’s response. He was grateful that Peter wasn’t making a big deal out of the flashback and panic attack, but it almost seemed like he was trying too hard to downplay it, and Neal knew it had to have affected him more than he was letting on.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said softly. “I know how bad it was.”

“Yeah, it was bad.” Peter nudged him with his shoulder. “But it wasn’t the only thing that happened today, and the rest of the day has been wonderful so far.” He paused for a moment, letting out a long sigh before he continued. “And you need to remember that I’ve been there.”

“That happened to you before?”

“Not exactly like that, but pretty close. First time I went to the firing range after the shooting. It was pretty intense. I hyperventilated so badly that my hands locked up and my feet went numb, and then I got sick and almost passed out. Even now, I still have a hard time with it every so often. Hell, I’m in law enforcement, but the smell of spent gunpowder turns my stomach. Go figure.” Peter’s voice had faded to a near-whisper, and Neal’s heart went out to him.

“Wow. I – I’m sorry.” 

“And I’m sorry that it happened to you. I’m not trying to act like it didn’t happen, Neal. I just don’t want you to dwell on it. That’s what I did for way too long, and it’s not healthy. Trust me.” Again, his voice faded at the end, and when Neal looked over, he could see Peter’s jaw clenching.

“I do. I trust you more than anyone.” 

Peter drew a sharp breath and brought them to a stop, pulling them into a narrow alley and turning to face Neal. “Then don’t let what happened back there be the only thing you think about today. We’ll get you some help, and it’ll get easier – it will – but until then, don’t let it take whole days of your life.” He rested his hands on Neal’s shoulders, and when their eyes met, Neal felt like he was looking deep into Peter’s soul.

“That’s how it happens. You give it today, and it’ll sneak in and take tomorrow, and maybe a day or two next week. Next thing you know, you don’t want to go out anymore because you’re paranoid that it’ll happen again, and instead of being with people who care about you, you’re spending your nights with your new best friends, Jim Beam and Jack Daniels. I knew those guys well – they listened without judging me, and they made the pain go away, and they didn’t look at me like I was…damaged goods.” Peter’s voice grew rough, and he paused, bringing a thumb up to stroke Neal’s jaw.

“I’ve been there, and it almost killed me. I – I can’t. Neal, I can’t let that happen to you. Look, I don’t know what you went through, but whatever it was, you survived it once. Don’t let it get you the second time around.” This time, his voice broke altogether, and Peter turned away, hands dropping to his sides.

Neal was too stunned to speak, not just by Peter’s revelation, but by the extent of the truth in his words. Neal had outright cheated death once, only to have it nearly catch up with him again the night he broke into June’s mansion. She’d saved him then, and with her help, he’d almost been able to hope again. But the nightmares hadn’t gotten better, and even with June and Mozzie’s companionship, he’d started to sink back down into the darkness again, almost without realizing it. They looked after him, tried to keep him company, but they didn’t _know_. Even when he was spending time with one or both of them, even when the mansion was full of people, he still felt alone more often than not.

It wasn’t until he’d started spending so much time with Peter that he began to remember what it felt like to be truly happy. Peter made him smile and chased the nightmares away and got giddy when he touched the Cape York meteorite. Peter brought him back from that macabre place where everything smelled like gasoline and tasted like blood – from the place where he’d lived and she’d died. They’d died.

And then instead of just pulling him from the wreckage and leaving him to fend for himself, Peter was staying. Staying so that Neal wouldn’t have to be alone in the desolation. Staying because he cared. About Neal.

This time when Neal’s throat tightened with the threat of tears, it wasn’t because of the darkness, but because of the light.

He wrapped his arms around Peter and just held on, relieved when the other man did the same. He breathed through the emotions and was able to pull himself back together, though the slight dampness against his neck told him that Peter might not have been quite as successful.

“Peter?”

“Hmm?” 

“I think you’re right,” he said, pressing a kiss against the other man’s shoulder. “Next time, we should definitely start with the gems. Don’t tell June, though. I think she was avoiding taking me there. Didn’t want me to get any ideas about the Patricia Emerald, I guess.”

Peter huffed a watery laugh into his neck. “That’ll be our first stop, then.” He pulled away just far enough to swipe at his eyes with the heel of his hand, then looked sheepishly down at Neal’s chest. “God, look at me. Sometimes I think my brain can’t decide if I’m a forty-something guy or a pre-menstrual woman.”

Neal still had his arms wrapped loosely around Peter’s back, and he canted his hips forward. “I can think of some ways to remind it.”

Peter’s eyes widened for a brief second as they came up to meet Neal’s, then settled into a gaze that was more than a little suggestive. “Mmm. Is that so?” The corners of his mouth quirked up, and Neal couldn’t help giving him a small smile in return.

“We’re only a couple of blocks away.” He leaned in for a kiss, and Peter met him with an eagerness that put Neal at ease. They’d gotten past the difficult part, and now Neal not only understood why Peter had reacted the way he did, but he also had faith that the older man wasn’t going to abandon him over something like a flashback or a panic attack.

The thought did something to him, and he pushed his tongue into Peter’s mouth, tasting the salty remnants of his tears. Peter pushed back, his fingers digging into Neal’s shoulders. Neal’s hands went to Peter’s hips, and he was just backing the older man toward the brick wall behind him when there was a disgusted grumble from the sidewalk.

“Geez, we got kids walking by here. Go do that somewhere else, ya perverts.” An elderly man stood there, hands on his hips, glaring at them. Beside him was an older woman, a younger woman, and two small children - neither of whom seemed affected in the least by what they may or may not have seen.

They backed away from each other, quickly but reluctantly, and Peter waved an acknowledgement at the man. “Sorry, you’re right. Wouldn’t want to expose them to a healthy relationship or anything.” He dropped his voice low enough that only Neal could hear it. “Keep the kids over there so they don’t catch the gay.” Neal sucked in both cheeks to keep from laughing, though he still almost lost the battle when Peter took him by the hand and put his other hand on his own hip, tossing his head back and practically sashaying a wide circle around the group of bystanders. “Come along, snuggle bear, let’s hurry home and do what we perverts know how to do best.”

Neal’s shoulders shook hard with the effort to hold it together, but he managed to keep quiet until they were out of earshot. “Wow, Peter. That was amazing. Snuggle bear, seriously?” 

Peter gave him a wily grin, eyes dancing with mirth. “What, can’t a boy have a little fun?” At that, Neal lost it, throwing his head back and laughing. Peter just stood there, looking proud of himself.

When Neal finally managed to catch his breath, he straightened up and rested his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Thank you. I _really_ needed that.”

Peter watched him for a long moment, then leaned in so his lips were next to Neal’s ear. “Do you know how sexy you are when you laugh?” He nipped lightly at Neal’s earlobe. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

“We’re almost back to my place,” Neal countered, feeling surprisingly upbeat. “Why don’t you show me when we get there?”

“What are we waiting for?” Peter snuck in a quick kiss high on Neal’s jaw before taking his hand and starting back in the direction of June’s. 

As they covered the short distance that remained, Neal expected the flirting to continue, but Peter seemed to have other ideas. He grew strangely quiet, and Neal finally gave him a nudge.

“Hey, you okay? Don’t let that jerk get to you. The way you handled it –”

“It wasn’t him,” Peter said with a shake of his head. “God, if I let people like that get to me, I would’ve killed my immoral self a long time ago.” He gave a half-hearted laugh and looked straight ahead, his brow furrowing. “Look, Neal, if we’re going to – I, uh, need you to understand…” He trailed off and glanced reflexively at his leg. “I won’t lie. It’s not pretty. There was a lot of damage. I’m lucky I didn’t lose my leg altogether.”

Though Neal continued to watch him, Peter refused to make eye contact. “Peter, I’ve seen scars before. I have a few of my own.” He brought Peter to a stop at the bottom of June’s front steps and waited until the older man’s eyes, clouded with uncertainty rather than self-consciousness, finally met his own. “They’re proof that you survived, and that you helped others survive…” He trailed off into a near-whisper, bringing Peter’s hand up and pressing it flat against his chest. “… _are_ helping others survive.”

Peter nodded, his throat working, and ran the backs of his fingers down Neal’s jaw. Neal reached up and caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm before giving him a tug toward the steps. Peter raised his eyebrows in mock innocence, and Neal nodded in the direction of the door.

“Come on,” he said softly. “We still have a date to finish.”

Peter finally let himself smile again, and Neal led him up the steps. As soon as they were inside and the door was locked behind them, Neal crowded a surprised Peter against the wall and kissed him hard. It didn’t take long for Peter to recover, one of his hands going to Neal’s hip while the other slid up over his shoulder and into the curls at the back of his neck. 

Neal tried to pour as much as he could into the moment. It wasn’t just about taking the next step. It was about waking in Peter’s arms, well-rested after a night free of fear. It was about a wonderful date, and about what came after, Peter holding him and telling him to breathe and bringing him back from something he’d hoped the older man would never have to see. It was about walking home, and a silly endearment, and laughing like he hadn’t laughed in a very long time. And it was about standing there in the marble entryway, kissing this beautiful man and not even caring who saw them.

It became clear pretty quickly that Peter wasn’t holding back either. His fingers threaded even deeper into Neal’s hair, and he let out a low moan that traveled through every nerve in Neal’s body before ending up in his groin. Neal pushed Peter tight against the wall, feeling the older man’s growing erection against his hip, knowing they should go upstairs. Just as he was about to come up for air and suggest as much, he heard a sound that startled the hell out of him – and killed his own arousal.

“Neal!”

Peter jumped and pulled away, nearly smacking his head against the marble behind him. Neal could only drop his chin and groan in frustration.

“Shit,” he whispered, running a hand down Peter’s arm before turning to face the interloper. “What’s up, Moz?” Peter slipped behind him, resting his hands lightly on Neal’s shoulders. 

“Where have you –” June’s bespectacled assistant stopped mid-sentence and looked Neal up and down, cocking his head briefly before fixing Neal with a hard stare. “You had a flashback.”

Neal couldn’t help doing a double take, which must have been enough of a confirmation for Mozzie.

“What happened?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned his attention to Peter. “And what did _you_ do?”

“How…?”

Mozzie gestured at Neal’s shins, and when Neal looked down, he was vaguely surprised to see that the legs of his khakis were covered in dirty smudges from knee to cuff. “Moz, I’m fine.” At the other man’s doubtful look, Neal held out his hands in a placating gesture. “I am. I’m fine now. And Peter…Peter was wonderful.” He reached up to rest a hand on one of Peter’s, conscious of Mozzie’s eyes tracking the movement.

“Come in and sit down.” Though it still held a note of suspicion, Mozzie’s voice had softened, and he stepped aside as they made their way over to the sofa. As soon as they were seated, he disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

“Getting us something to drink,” Neal murmured in response to Peter’s questioning look.

“Ah.” Peter leaned into him and smirked. “So is he always such an uncanny cockblock?”

Neal’s eyes widened at the other man’s bluntness, but he grinned in spite of himself. “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve had anyone over since I moved in.”

Peter glanced away, reaching down to brush at some of the dirt on Neal’s pants. “I’m sorry I didn’t see this before.”

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t notice it either.” Before he could say anything else, Mozzie returned with two glasses of lemonade.

“No alcohol. This will have to do,” he said, handing them each a glass before placing coasters on the coffee table in front of them. Neal could feel his cheeks warming; for as much as Mozzie loved wine – and occasionally enjoyed sharing some with Neal after June dismissed him for the evening – he refused to let Neal have any after he’d had a nightmare or a flashback. Having Moz make the declaration in front of Peter embarrassed him, but Peter seemed to have no qualms with drinking the lemonade, so Neal did the same.

“What happened?” Mozzie asked, sitting down across from them. 

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Neal gave him an offhand shrug, hoping the other man would take the hint and drop the subject, though he knew better deep down. When Mozzie just stared at him expectantly, Neal sighed and shook his head. “There was a wreck down near the museum. I really don’t want to get into it, Moz. Please.”

Mozzie watched him for a moment before turning his attention to Peter. “And you helped him through it?”

“I did.” Peter sat up, his back straightening, looking like he was ready to verbally defend himself if needed. Neal could actually feel the power shifting in the room. “I have some experience with flashbacks and PTSD. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Oh, so are you a rent-a-cop or a therapist?”

Neal felt Peter’s body stiffen beside him, and he cut in before the other man could respond. “Don’t, Moz. I told you, I’m fine now. Peter was amazing, and we had a great day otherwise. Can we just drop it?”

Mozzie’s attention shifted back to Neal. “You let him stay overnight?”

“I _asked_ Peter to stay, and he agreed.” Neal reached for Peter’s hand. “And I slept longer than I have since…well, before.”

“He made you breakfast?”

“He did, yes. And thank you for bringing up what he needed. Everything was great.” 

Mozzie watched him for a long moment, then did the same to Peter, who was still bristling. “Have you eaten since breakfast?”

Neal barely stifled a sigh of relief, and he felt Peter start to relax. “No, it happened when we were on our way to lunch.” Even though Peter had made him forget about the horror of the flashback, Neal’s appetite wasn’t anywhere to be found. He figured Peter must be hungry, though, so he hoped Mozzie’s question was an unspoken invitation to lunch. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“June’s spending the day with her grandkids, so I made us the chicken pasta salad you like.” His eyes darted to Peter before returning to Neal. “I made extra in case you want _him_ to stay.”

“I do have a name,” Peter muttered under his breath. Neal squeezed his fingers and gave him a questioning look. The only response he got was a reluctant nod, but it was good enough for Neal. 

“Thanks, Moz. We’d love to join you for lunch.” He gave the man a grateful smile, and Mozzie’s professional demeanor finally seemed to fall back into place.

“Of course. I’ll meet you both in the dining room.” Without waiting for a reply, he stood and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

“Hey,” Neal said softly once Mozzie was out of earshot, “I’m glad you’re staying.”

Though his expression softened a bit at the comment, Peter still seemed irritated by the encounter with June’s assistant. “What does he have against me?”

“Don’t take it too personally.” Neal kissed him just in front of his ear, and the corners of Peter’s mouth twitched upward. “It takes Moz a long time to trust people. Right now, he’s looking for reasons _not_ to trust you, and I think it’s kind of frustrating him that you’re not giving him any.”

“What? That’s absurd.”

“I know. Just give him some time.” He nuzzled Peter’s jaw, and the older man’s smile grew. “At least you didn’t try to steal something from June.” That got rid of the last of Peter’s animosity, and he chuckled, rolling his eyes at Neal. “What? He still doesn’t fully trust me – although Moz never fully trusts anyone – and I think the only reason he trusts me as much as he does is because June trusts me. He considers her the ultimate judge of character. Says she’s never been wrong.”

“Well, that’s good to know, seeing as how she sent me upstairs to see you last night.” Peter leaned in for a quick kiss. “So, are you hungry?”

“Not really, and not entirely for food, but we should eat something.” Though Peter’s eyes lit up at the second part of the statement, Neal held up a hand. “And I think it’ll help your standing with Moz. This is his way of showing you he’s grateful.” He waved off Peter’s disbelieving look. “He’s grateful that you helped me through the flashback or he wouldn’t have invited you to lunch, _and_ he’s grateful that you helped me sleep through the night, or he wouldn’t have made enough for you in the first place.”

“He’s thanking me with food.” It wasn’t a question, and it was clear Peter wasn’t entirely buying Neal’s explanation.

“Oh, he’ll find all sorts of interesting ways to show his gratitude if he thinks it’s warranted.” Neal stood, motioning for Peter to do the same. “But if you’re expecting an outright ‘thank you,’ you’d have better luck tracking down a yeti.”

Peter huffed out a laugh and stood, and Neal wrapped his arms loosely around the other man’s neck. “I’ll say it, though. Thank you. For last night, for today. For being the first one to show me proof that there’s light at the end of the tunnel.”

“You’re welcome,” Peter said, resting his hands on Neal’s hips. “And there is. We’ll get you there.” He leaned in, rubbing his nose against Neal’s before capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. 

Neal knew he should remind Peter that Mozzie was waiting for them, could probably even see them if he was in the dining room, but all he could think about was Peter’s mouth on his own, the warmth from those hands radiating through his shirt just above his waistband. And beneath those thoughts, something deeper – Peter holding him and telling him to breathe, looking at him with care and concern instead of disgust and rejection, staying with him instead of leaving him alone.

“You know,” Mozzie’s voice rang out from the dining room, “you should really have lunch first, then dessert.”

Peter groaned, and Neal couldn’t help smiling against his lips. “We should probably go eat.” With a reluctant nod, Peter backed away. Draping an arm over his shoulder, Neal led him in the direction of the dining room.

Though Neal couldn’t help wishing that things between them might progress after lunch, he’d already gotten more from the day than he ever expected. He’d discovered that even after getting a harsh and intense look at the darkness deep inside of him, not only was Peter willing to stick around, but he’d responded by giving Neal something he hadn’t had in so long he’d barely remembered what it felt like. He’d given him hope.

***


End file.
